That thou hast her, it is not all my grief, <br /> And yet it may be said I loved her dearly; <br /> That she hath thee, is of my wailing chief, <br /> A loss in love that touches me more nearly. <br /> Loving offenders, thus I will excuse ye: <br /> Thou dost love her, because thou knowst I love her; <br /> And for my sake even so doth she abuse me, <br /> Suffering my friend for my sake to approve her. <br /> If I lose thee, my loss is my love's gain, <br /> And losing her, my friend hath found that loss; <br /> Both find each other, and I lose both twain, <br /> And both for my sake lay on me this cross: <br /> But here's the joy; my friend and I are one; <br /> Sweet flattery! then she loves but me alone.<br /><br />William Shakespeare<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-xlii/
